His Favorite Feature
by justanotheryaoifangirl
Summary: There's just something special about Ishida's hands... Drabble IchixIshi


Author's Note: My friend Lisa challenged me to write a fluffy one-shot and it somehow turned into this. Oh, well, hope you all enjoy it! And just so you know, reviews make any writer's day!

Disclaimer: Is this really necessary? I mean, do I look like I own Bleach to you?

Had anyone ever told Ichigo that it was possible to spend hours just looking at someone's hands, he would have been the first to look down at his own marred fingers and scoff. But now, here he was sitting in class looking at the only thing that he had been able to pay attention to all day; the hands of the person in front of him, Ishida's hands. He watched as the Quincy's right hand went up to gently brush a stray lock of midnight blue hair back from his face, tucking it behind his ear before dutifully resuming his note taking like the good student he was. If anyone could do such a mundane thing gracefully, it would definitely be the archer sitting in the front of the room.

Absentmindedly, Ichigo wondered what it was about the boy that seemed to radiate elegance, sophistication and perfection. Ichigo knew that the boy was, by no means, perfect. He was far from it in fact with his superiority complex and strange hobbies. But, nonetheless, just looking at his hands, he could, for the moment, disregard his friend-sometimes-rival's faults and believe that he was untarnished, just like his hands. No, he couldn't say that. After all, he had seen the scars himself. Still, the scars did nothing to dull their grace. Instead, they seemed to only give his hands a sort of ethereal beauty, a beauty that belonged solely to the Quincy and to none other. As bad as it sounded, the scars suited the Quincy, only amplifying the archer as the perfect example of tragic grace, distressing allure, and heartrending beauty.

Unlike most of his classmates, who commented that Ishida's nimble fingers seemed to be perfect for the sewing he was so good at, Ichigo simply couldn't picture those hands being made for anything other than the use of the Qunicy bow and arrow. His right hand seemed to fit effortlessly over the blue bow, left arm easily able to string the magnificent yet deadly arrows dozens at a time in a smooth, fluid fashion.

A disruption in the smooth strokes of the archer's hand brought Ichigo back from his musings and he watched as the Quincy pushed up his glasses with his first two fingers, a gesture he was all too familiar with. To anyone else, it would have seemed like a normal gesture. After all, the glasses did have a tendency to slip down the bridge of his nose. However, Ichigo had seen it enough times to realize it for what it was. On anyone else, it would have plainly been a nervous tic. However, to Ichigo, the words Ishida and nervous simply could not fit in the same sentence. The archer was never nervous, always the ideal portrait of calm and collected. On Ishida, that commonplace motion was intimidating, calculating, and unpitying. It was only one more reason for Ichigo to stare distractedly at the boy's hands as opposed to any of the infinite other – and far less striking – things in the dully lit classroom.

The disappearance of the hands he had been so intent on throughout the day momentarily threw Ichigo out of focus. Where was he, again? Oh, of course, he was at school. Only when he registered that the rest of his classmates were filing out of the classroom on their way to lunch did those hands reappear. However, this time one of them was resting lightly on the top of his desk while the other was extended, palm-up, in Ichigo's direction.

"Come on, Kurosaki. As I'm sure you haven't noticed, due to the fact that you don't pay attention to anything that goes on in this classroom, it's time for lunch, and as much as I wouldn't mind leaving you here, I don't feel like having to put up with you when you're too hungry." However, the words fell on deaf ears as Ichigo stared at the boy's smooth palm. Taking the offered hand and letting Ishida help him out of his seat, Ichigo marveled at how soft it was. However, instead of letting go when Ishida went to pull it back, he instead slid his fingers in between the boy's own, lacing them together.

"Kurosaki, what are you doing? Let go." However, even while the Quincy's cheeks flamed red in protest and his eyes glared daggers at the boy next to him, his fingers tightened around Ichigo's own. Yes, Ishida's hands were indeed his favorite feature.

Aww…so sweet! Review please, if it's not too much trouble? I like to know what all of you think!


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